Only Seven
by blood splatter queen
Summary: She was only seven, but she wanted to go to heaven. She was so unhappy, so sad, so alone that by the age of seven she dreamt of death; and Death dreamt of her too. She welcomed Death with opened arms and she would often play with it. (So this story is where a little girl (7) and Eyeless Jack (23) cross paths. Will he eat her, or - for some reason - keep her?)
1. Chapter 1

She was so alone in this world. So sad. So anxious. So still. So alone. She was only ever certain about one thing, only one thing in particular: death was best in all situations.

She was only seven, but she wanted to go to heaven. She was so unhappy, so sad, so alone that by the age of seven she dreamt of death; and Death dreamt of her often. It would often show up in her dreams with shaggy brown hair that covered its eyes, grey ash skin, black attire, and a threatening smile, though, to her it wasn't anything to be scared of. She welcomed Death with opened arms and would often play with it.

It would suggest foreign games to her like real life Hangman where on her last guess and she gave up, she would jump with a scarf around her neck, tied to the ceiling. Another one of her favorites was called Gravity. Death had first introduced this game to her when she was five. Explaining how if you dropped a golf ball from a tall building and then a bowling ball, the bowling ball would hit the ground first because it weighed more. Death had made this statistical fact into a game of its own. It was a race to see who could hit the ground first, but no matter how much of a head start Death had given the girl, it would always beat her.

Death had pulled at almost every last one of the girl's major arteries and had squeezed the girl's heart back to life more than It could count. It was true Death had killed her for the sake of the games, but It didn't want her to stay dead. She was simply too much fun to play with while she was alive. It loved to hear the snapping of her bones, the ripping of her flesh, the smell of her splattered blood; It would get no satisfaction if It had killed her all those times. Plus, she liked the rush. It made her feel alive.

Death was so selfish, so foolish, so blind that it granted the girl the gift of eternal life. It hadn't realized that all those years of trying to kill herself that this little seven year-old wanted to go to heaven; and stay with Death forever so they could play forever. It hadn't realized until it was too late that if the girl had eternal life, Death could not see or play with the girl anymore.

She was now back to being so alone in this world. So sad she couldn't play. So anxious to see Death again. So still she couldn't age. So alone she couldn't stand it.

She had always held Death tightly in her arms, happy as she played with It, but now It had cut off all ties with the girl so she could live happily in her years. That is until It desperately wanted her back.

(( **HIM** ))

Before dawn, the thirtieth of April, he bathed outdoors with bottled water and liquid soap. By the first light of day, he was safely ensconced in the deepest part of his hideaway. Laying on his mattress, staring up at the low hanging ceiling, he treated himself to the last of the remaining human organs he had in his possession.

Murder was always enormously satisfying. Tremendous internal pressures were released with the strike of a killing blow. More important, each murder was an act of rebellion against all things holy, against commandments and laws and rules and the irritatingly prissy system of manners employed by human beings to support the fiction that life was precious and endowed with meaning. Life was cheap and pointless. Nothing mattered but sensation and the swift gratification of all desires, which only the strong and free really understood. After every killing, he felt as liberated as the wind and mightier than any steel machine.

Until one special, glorious night when he was in his twelfth year, he had been one of the enslaved masses, dumbly plodding through life according to the rules of so-called civilization, though they made no sense to him. He pretended to love his mother, father, and a host of relatives, though he felt nothing more for them than he did for strangers encountered on the street. As a child, when he was old enough to begin thinking about such things, he wondered if something was wrong with him, a crucial element missing from his makeup. As he listened to himself playing the game of love, employment strategies of false ascension and shameless flattery, he was amazed at how convincing others found him, for he could hear the insincerity in his voice, could feel the fraudulence in every gesture, and was acutely aware of the deceit behind his every loving smile. Then one day he suddenly heard the deception in their voices and saw it in their faces, and he realized that none of _them_ had experienced love, either, or any of the nobler sentiments towards which a civilized person was supposed to aspire - selflessness, courage, piety, humility, and all the rest if that dreary catechism.

 _They_ were all playing the game too. Later he came to the conclusion that most of them, even the adults, had never enjoyed his degree of insight, and remained unaware that other people were exactly like them. Each person thought he was unique, that something was missing in him, and that he must play the game well or be uncovered and ostracized as something other than human. God had tried to create a world of love, had failed, and had commanded His creations to pretend to the perfection which He had been unable to imbue them with. Perceiving that truth, he had taken his first step towards freedom.

Then one summer when he was twenty, he finally understood that in order to be really free, totally free, he had to act upon his understanding, begin to live differently from the herd of humanity, with his own pleasure as the only consideration. He had to be willing to exercise the power over others which he possessed by virtue of his insight into the true nature of the world. That night he learned that the ability to kill without any compunction was the purest form of power, and that the exercise of power was the greatest pleasure of all.

Finishing the last of the liver, he neatly rolled the empty bag into a tight tube, tied the tube in a knot to make the smallest possible object of it and dropped it into a plastic garbage bag that was just to the left of his head.

Neatness was one of the rules of the living.

The young man was not Death itself but one of Its many subjects. He had been killed and then resurfaced from reasons that he did not understand, but he didn't desire to go back to the deepest depths of Hell. He liked his newly found freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

A full decade had passed but her body, mind, and soul were still seven years old. During that time she spent a good majority of it moving around the country, trying to find Death in any dark alley she turned or abandoned shacks she found in the woods. Her travels were brought to a halt in Newport, Oregon, but only temporarily. She thought she saw it on a postcard in Washington, Death, waiting for her on the bridge that connected the small towns together.

It didn't take her long to spot the bridge in the small costal town. It was surrounded by the tourist shops, family restaurants, and boat docks on one side while the other was a clear view of the ocean. Not even a simple seagull dared to fly on that side of the bridge and disturb the darkening sky. It was passed sunset but an orange glow still lingered at the horizon.

Smiling widely, she made her way down the steep hill, not caring that she tripped and stumbled down the rest of the way. She just brushed herself off when her momentum slowed to a stop by the end of the slope and made her way towards the bridge, still smiling.

She would glance in the shop windows from time to time, but nothing caught her attention to make her feet hesitate to continue forward. Even if she wanted something from one of the shops, none of them were open. The only thing lively around here was the occasional bar or pub doors opening to release incapacitated people stumbling out with loud music blaring behind them. The drunk men didn't bother her in any way as they passed by, but they did give her a questionable glance over their shoulder at the seven year-old, but nothing else. She wasn't scared by these men, they could do nothing to hurt her. Physically, yes but she would be better in no time. Mentally, no, because she was still only seven and didn't understand the world just yet, but she was one of the few who know about the game.

It didn't take her long after her third birthday to realize everyone was lying to themselves, herself included. She would often tell the truth to people just to see their shocked reactions. Everyone was drowning in their own, and everyone else's lies that they can't decipher what's true or false. From what she could tell, people claim to be themselves but at the same time try to be someone else without realizing it. Makeup, dressup, attitude were only three out of the many examples of human beings changing themselves to feel more like someone less.

She never understood this concept. She thought everyone wanted to be unique from one another, to stand out and be their own person, which she was right, that was pretty much to concept of life in her eyes; but then again she watched humans change their minds the instant being different became 'uncool'. Humans only trusted another because they have something in common, not because they enjoy constantly bickering about who thought what was correct using only their own opinions.

Coming to a halt, now in the middle of the bridge, she stood on her toes to look over the cement wall and peered down at the seemingly endless drop below. It was dark with none of that orange sunset glow that lingered behind five minutes ago. The sky was a dark blue with the moon in the east, the only light she was given. None of the heavenly stars were out to guide her to heaven if this attempt did work but she wasn't discouraged as she swung her right leg up so her foot could rest on the edge then used all the strength she had to pull herself up and onto the cement wall. Swinging her left leg over the edge to hang besides the other she slowly started to stand. Even if the stars didn't guide her to heaven, Death would, she was sure of it.

Glancing down at her bare feet, she inched them forwards until her toes were hanging over the edge and all she could see was the blackness below that was destined to consume her and sent her away where she rightfully belonged. She giggled as she lifted her arms parallel to her shoulders and shut her eyes. She was excited to say the least to be reunited with Death. She couldn't wait to hug Its waist and play Gravity with It all day long. She sighed happily, taking in the salty air through her nose and out her mouth. She had jumped off of high places before, but none were hanging over water. If the contact with the water doesn't kill her, then surely drowning would.

"Goodbye, humanity. Have a nice night," she giggled and started leaning forward while the wind pushed against her.

"Goodbye." A deep voice stated, making the girl's eyes pop open and look over her shoulder. She didn't hear anyone walking her way and there definitely wasn't any cars to block out the sound.

When she looked over she saw a person wearing all black but couldn't see his face because his hood was casting a shadow as he leaned his back on the cement railing. He was peering up at the girl, but she wasn't sure if he was looking at her or the moon. She giggled at his willingness to stand out against everyone else and she like the fact that she had found someone who shares the same insight as her before she dies. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked and watched as the person didn't move, he just kept his gaze on her.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he asked and the girl only shrugged and looked back out to the dark horizon.  
"I don't know. Now that I think about it I don't really care what humans do in their spare time. They can do whatever they want," she stated and looked up at the moon.

He was intrigued with the fact that she seemed to exclude herself from the human population in that one opinion and tried to engage her into the conversation before she jumped. It was obvious she wasn't afraid to do it since she was so calm standing with her toes over the edge.

"So tell me, what makes you think killing yourself will make things better," he stated, still looking up at her as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets.

She glanced down at him without moving her head and just stared at the figure before giving a reply, "I never said it would make things better, because nothing is wrong. I simply just want to try and see if this will work."

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"Well, won't they miss you?"

"No, they're in Rhode Island. They let me leave."

"And how old are you?" he pressed, though, he didn't sense any irritation coming from her. She was happy to answer all of his questions while she still had the chance before she plunged herself into the frigid bay waters of the Oregon coast.

"I'm seven."

"That's a little young to be thinking about suicide, don't you think?" he asked. He wasn't offering her help down from the ledge. In fact, if she changed her mind he might just push her over himself. She got herself into this mess, so she was going to have to finish it either her way or his way.

"No, I'm doing this out of my own pleasure. I finally understand that in order to be really free, totally free, I have to act upon my understanding, begin to live differently from the herd of humanity, with my own pleasure as the only consideration. I have to be willing to exercise the power over others which I possessed by virtue of my insight into the true nature of the world. This night I will learn that the ability to kill myself without any regret is the purest form of power, and the exercise of power is the greatest pleasure of all… Or so I heard," she stated and smiled down at the hooded man.

He froze, knowing she had the same understanding of the world they live in, and this irritated him. He was twelve when he figured it out and she's only seven. Sighing, he pushed himself off the wall and stood behind the girl before giving her one hard shove, sending her a few feet away from the railing before she fell and started screaming. But what caught his attention was that she wasn't screaming because of the free fall, or because she was scared to die after all, or because she didn't see the shove coming. She was screaming in a way that sounded almost… happy…

He leaned over the railing, peering into the darkness, when he heard a sudden splash and the screaming stopped. Sighing again he started walking in the direction he was going before he stopped. He held no remorse or guilt for pushing her, he was certain she _wanted_ him to.

When the _Scavenger_ entered the bay, the men on the fishing shuttle cheered in a successful trip. Ten days they had been out in the Pacific Ocean catching halibut left and right, originally they were supposed to be out there for a little over a month during their expedition, but luck was on their side.

Entering the bay, they started reeling in the nets attached to the back of the boat so they wouldn't accidentally catch one of the native sea lions in the waters. But one of the men on deck started waving his arms to the captain's quarters with urgency in his voice as he also yelled. Immediately the machine was stopped and all the other men came around to see what the problem was, but they all froze when they saw a young girl, no even in her double digits yet - with her head hanging outside of the bottom of the otherwise empty net, she limbs tangled in the netting with a soaked black dress sticking to her wet figure. Her dark hair swaying beneath her.

They quickly cut through the net to get her free, but they had no doubt in their minds that she was dead. Once they were able to lay her down on the deck without anything but her dress on her, they were able to see her skin was a light shade of greyish blue from being in the cold water while there wasn't any sign of life left in her still form.

One of the men covered her in a blanket before picking her up and unloading from the boat to bring her to land so that the police could take her away, but right as the police got there with an ambulance to move the body, something happened…

"Do you know who she is?" one of the officers asked as he pulled the blanket down so he could look at the girl's face. His own face contorted to one full of sorrow as he stared down at the pale girl.

"No, Sir. We just docked from a two week trip when we found her in one of our crab nets," the man replied and carefully handed the girl over to the medic who then started walking with her towards the truck, but then stopped suddenly when he felt something. He quickly rushed her over to the gurney, pushed the body bag aside and felt for a pulse on the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt her shallow pulse, it was barely there, but it was there signalling she was alive.

"Tom! Oxygen, quick!" the medic yelled, not bothering to look up when he pinched the girl nose and opened her mouth before exhaling into it. Her heart might be beating, but she wasn't breathing.

Pumped the girl's chest, the medic looked up with a flair in his eyes as they scanned the area for the officer. Once he saw him he dove down to breath into the girl again before pumping her heart. Even though it was still beating she could still die from the lack of oxygen in the blood stream.

"Tom! Where the fuck is that oxy-!"

"Here!" The officer handed him the mask and quickly closed the truck doors without any questions as he ran to the driver's seat. There was only one medic because they thought the girl was dead and they were just going to send her to the morgue not treat her in the ICU.

Ditching his police cruiser, the officer drove the girl to the hospital as she clung to life. As she started breathing on her own and her pulse got stronger, her consciousness started to come around.

Opening her eyes for her, the medic shined a light in her grey orbs and started shouting to her over the loud sirens and engine, "Miss, my name is Mike, I'm a medical doctor. You're in the back of an ambulance five minutes away from the hospital." the medic stated as he upped the amount of oxygen from the tank and put a heart clip on the index finger.

She rolled her eyes, trying to open them as she mumbled incoherent words to herself, but even she didn't know what she was trying to say. The medic - Mike - seemed to sigh, but his job wasn't over when he wrapped the girl in a heating blanket to rise her temperature.

"Miss, can you squeeze my hand? Can you tell me your name? How about your age?" Mike asked as he took the girl's freezing hand in his own to test her strength, but she was so confused.

Why didn't Death take her away?


	3. Chapter 3

After he pushed the girl off the bridge he couldn't stop thinking about her, dreaming about her even after a few days. He wondered if she still lingered in his mind because he killed without making a meal out of her. Or because he was still hung up on why she wanted to leap into the icy Pacific so she could become acquainted with Death. She had explained to him that she wanted to 'try something' and gave the impression that she wanted to die without actually saying it. He was intrigued by her, no doubt. He wanted to know more about why. _Why_ did she want to die? _Why_ didn't she scream when she first saw him? _Why_ was she able to hold a conversation with a cannibalistic killer so relaxed? _Why_ had she separated humanity from herself as if she wasn't human? _Why wasn't someone looking for her?_

His mind went blank from the last question. He wasn't surprised so much about why he thought about the previous questions because they all concerned him, but that last one, it wasn't in anyway close. Rubbing his face as he laid on the old, stained mattress in his hideaway he scoffed. No one was trying to find her because she said that her parents lived in Rhode Island, and they probably didn't expect such a young girl to be able to make it inland to the opposite side of the country. They probably gave up on her, presumed her dead, and moved on. This sort of thing happened all the time so he wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what happened to the girl and her parents. But then another thought entered his mind: How did she do it? There must've been Amber Alerts in the states closest to them, so how did she slip the radar? How was she able to escape all of those cautious eyes, television casts, and local cameras? But more importantly, how was she able to walk the 3,037.5 miles to get here, Newport Oregon?

Growling, he sat up and started to rub his face. His hands lingered over his eyelids, he left them alone, and instead ran both his hands through his shaggy dark brown hair. Why was he thinking about this human so much? She wasn't anything important, nothing special. Plus, she was now dead. He was the one who pushed her off the bridge himself. He was the one who heard the joyful scream escape her chest and stop short once she smacked the water's surface and was submerged underwater. He was the one who was responsible for her death - though she was the one who asked for it - so why can't he stop thinking about her?

His bed springs coiled and uncoiled under him loudly as he stood and glanced out the window. The sun was setting and was casting shadows of the surrounding trees on the cabin he occupied. The need to kill and feed just to get the - now dead - girl out of his head grew by the second, but it was still too bright out for such with the aid of dark sunglasses, he headed for a good kill and meal.

(( **HER** ))

Her head was swimming as sharp and quick pains shot through her entire body. She groaned and attempted to shift her head but it felt too heavy, like a cement block was weighing down on her forehead. Next she tried to open her eyes, but quickly shut them again when she found the bright room she awoke in was spinning. Instantly she used all of the strength she could muster to lean over the side of the bed she was laying on, throw up nothing but stomach acid, and flop back into her previous position. The waves that had carried her throughout the bay had made her subconscious sick and she was now facing the aftermath of her death attempt. She could hear people running in the hall, getting closer and closer to her room, but she couldn't care less. Right now all she cared about was regaining her composure then getting the heck out of there. She still had to get back to Death after all.

She leaned over the puke again when warm hands caught her shoulders and forced a cool tin pan under her chin. She coughed after she was finished and couldn't help but take note that the warm hand was now patting her back in a soothing way that suggests someone was there for her. Keeping her eyes closed she leaned back on the bed pillows and panted silently, exhausted by the violent action. Something pricked her inner forearm and a thick substance entered her bloodstream.

"There you go, Sweetie. This should make your tummy feel a lot better," A female voice stated in a light tone, but the girl could sense the false kindness in her voice. She was only one of the many players in the Game and probably hasn't realized it yet.

The girl wanted to tell her it wasn't her stomach that was hurting, it was her head, but she couldn't usher out the words. Instead another string of incoherent words mushed together escaped her dry throat just like in the ambulance on the way here.

"Sh, sh. It's alright. I'm right here," the female voice stated, playing her role as a nice nurse well.

The girl tried to speak again through her sandpaper throat, needing to tell her that her head was in pain and that she needed to leave so that she could see Death again as soon as possible, but only one word was able to make it out with only a single scratch. "Water…"

The nurse didn't hesitate to pour water into a plastic cup and help the girl drink the liquid. It felt so good on the girl's throat she couldn't help but weakly grab the cut from the nurse and consume the rest in five large gulps. Some of the water leaked down the corners of her mouth, but she didn't care. It felt good on the outside of the esophagus too. Once she was done she was panting and was finally able to open her eyes, but her head was still pounding slightly. She held the cup in her lap as she looked around the room. The walls were painted a light purple with green polkadots, a small book shelf containing only children picture books opposite to the door, a white nightstand on her left holding a butterfly lamp that was on, then to her left the same thing but a woman sat in a small desk chair looking at her patient forms. The women had brown hair, and warm brown eyes with pale skin, and pink lips. She wore a dark blue shirt, matching pants, and white shoes. Her name plate saying: Nurse Sarah Lexon.

The women looked away from the papers in her hand and smiled at the girl, "My name is Sarah. I'm a nurse at this hospital. Can you tell me your name, Sweetheart?" the nurse - Sarah - asked and the girl looked at Sarah for a moment, contemplated if she should tell her her name, and decided it was probably best. If she was returned to her parents she could just run away again and start to search for Death elsewhere.

"My name is Ollie Minabe," the girl - Ollie - stated in her quiet but raspy voice.

(( **HIM** ))

Her name was Mera Jane Stillman. She was a senior, twenty years old, majoring in music. She could play the piano, flute, clarinet, guitar, and almost any other musical instrument she took the time to learn. Perhaps the best-known and most-admired student in the music program, she was was widely considered to possess an exceptional talent for composition. An essentially shy person, she wrote about music and movies for the student paper; and she was active in the Baptist church.

Mera made the mistake of going alone to the laundry room in her apartment complex at eleven o'clock at night. Many of the units were leased to financially comfortable senior citizens and, because they were near the University of Oregon at Eugene, to pairs and trios of students who shared the rent. Maybe the tenant mix, the fact that it was a safe and friendly neighborhood, and the abundance of landscape and walkway lighting all combined to give her a false sense of security.

When he entered the laundry room, Mera had just begun to put her dirty clothes into one of the washing machines. She looked at him with a smile of surprise but with no apparent concern, though he was dressed all in black and wearing sunglasses at night.

She probably thought he was just another university student who favored an eccentric look as a way of claiming his rebellious spirit and intellectual superiority. Every campus had a slew of the type, since it was easier to dress the part than be one.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss," he said, "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"That's okay. I'm only using one washer," she said, "There's two others."

"No, I already did my laundry, then back at the apartment when I took it out of the basket, I was missing one sock. So I figured it's got to be in one of the washers or dryers. Sorry about that."

She smiled a little brighter, maybe because she thought it was funny that a would be James Dean, black-clad rebel without cause, would choose to be so polite - or would do his own laundry and chase down lost socks.

By then he was beside her. He hit her in the face - two hard, sharp punches that knocked her unconscious. She crumbled onto the tile floor as if she were a pile of laundry.


	4. Chapter 4

Ollie Minables parents arrived the next day, their fake concern for the girl was enough to fool the hospital staff that these people were eligible parents but Ollie could see it in their eyes just how cold and heartless they truly were. She had thought she had escaped them long ago when she first ran away and never came back, but now she was back in their merciless clutches.

They weren't surprised to see their supposed to be seventeen year-old daughter still seven. They knew the minute they laid eyes on her from the birth that she was anything but normal. Anything but human. When she was first born it took the girl two minutes to cry, when she was ten months old she died in her sleep, but the next day miraculously revived herself, she was only two and was only able to utter one word: Death. They knew as they watched her grow up she was something beyond anything God himself could have created. She was the Devil's work.

The doctors called it a miracle that Ollie was able to survive such a fall and be submerged under the frigid water for a little more than a day and not have a single scratch. They released her into her parents custody and let them to deal with the Press Corps waiting for them outside. It seemed like the whole world wanted to know why the girl was on the bridge and how she survived. Ollie didn't care about the first question but the second one was a mystery. How _did_ she survive? Was Death just toying with her now?

She broke out of her thoughts with a sigh as she got in her parents silver 2001 Volvo station wagon. She knew this was just a rental car from the clear air, new car smell, and the lack of garbage coating the back seat floor. She stared at her lap, ignored the flashing cameras, and let her mind wonder to what the future had in store for her. She wondered what her parents were going to do with her, bring her back and make her into a slave like they did so long ago or let her roam free so they wouldn't have to concern themselves with her. She doubted they would want to keep her, but she knew the thought of having their only daughter serve them was pleasing to their sick minds. And she also doubted they would let her stay, she knew they would like her as a slave but she also knew how terribly afraid they were of her at times. They didn't like gore in anyway, but Ollie's life gravitated towards it. Every suicide attempt she had made in the past was linked to a bone shattering, gut wrenching, blood splattering scene; and it was even more disturbing when she tried to put herself back together again using temporary staples and tape.

Once the car's engine purred to life and Ollie's father - Roland - started to drive out of the parking garage the girl's mother - Alexandria - didn't bother turning around in her seat to look at her daughter as she spoke. She was still disturbed by Ollie's pale grey skin and chapped light purple lips.

"Oliver," she said the girl's full name in a cold tone. The girl didn't bother looking up from her lap, "once we retire to the hotel, you are required to bring our bags in then return to the car. Leave if you please or stay. The choice is yours."

"Yes Ma'am," Ollie replied quietly.

(( **HIM** ))

Mira Jane Stillman's body was slowly leaking blood from the many cuts he had given her when he had laid her on his bed and started dissecting her like she was a science project. She was dead before he could even consider torturing her, making him rush to harvest her organs and place them in separate bags before stuffing them into a small hand-held styrofoam cooler. He could only guess she had died when he had punched her, broke her nose, and sent fragments of bone to impale her brain tissue. But no matter, he needed to relocate soon or else police will find him here and will certainly be turned into a science project then. The only thing he needs to do before finding a new location is to stock up on food and he knew just the residence he could find more than enough humans all at once. Comfort Inn.

(( **HER** ))

Ollie's parents said nothing else throughout the short ride from the hospital to the Comfort Inn. It was a regular enough looking hotel; white paint was chipped on the exterior with three stories and a two star ranking. It was your average hotel. As darkness consumed the sunset, Ollie struggled to lug the two duffel bags to the hotel entrance, not drop them as her parents requested a room, then panted as she hauled them up three flights of stairs. She wasn't given permission to take the elevator to the third floor because her parents didn't want to stand in such a tight space with the girl. Once Ollie got to the room she knocked on the door, waited for it to open, then entered.

"We were waiting," the mother stated, not looking at the girl as she started to unpack their belongings into the dressers provided in the room.

"My apologies, Ma'am. I had some trouble with the stairs."

"That's no excuse, Oliver."

"My apologies again, Ma'am," she said lightly and then she proceeded to unpack without another word. Once she was done she stood, folded her hands in front of her and was about to leave when something caught her gaze. A spider had taken possession of the upper right hand corner of the window. Its spindle legs were prickled with hundreds of fine hairs. Its horrid, multifaceted eyes looked everywhere at once, and its rugged maw worked continuously as if in anticipation of the first living fly to become stuck in the trap that it had set. She jumped when a thick arm reach launched forward and caught the spider and its web, crushing both instantly.

"We said you are dismissed, Oliver," the girl's father stated as she watched him slowly retreat his hand and wipe the remnants of the spider on his faded jeans.

Ollie met his cold blank stare that was similar to the one her mother possessed but only for an instant before quickly looking down, apologizing again, then leaving the room.

(( **HIM** ))

The first story window had been unlocked while the room was vacant but difficult to open. The hinges at the top were corroded, and the frame was paint-sealed to the jamb in place. He made more noise than he intended, but he didn't think he had been loud enough to draw the attention of anyone in any of the other rooms. Then just as the paint cracked and the hinges moved to grant him access, a light had appeared on the third floor.

He had backed away from the window at once, even though the light went off again ever as he moved. He had taken cover in a stand of six-foot bushes near the property fence.

From there he saw her appear at the obsidian window, more visible to him, perhaps, than she would have been if she left the light on. It was the girl he had pushed off the bridge, the girl haunting his dreams. He could visibly see her dark brown hair - the same shade as his own - messy as it hung from her scalp, her pale grey eyes that held so much life but were distant at the same time, he could even see the small stretch of freckles that went from one cheek, across her nose, to the other cheek.

He stared at her in disbelief, then with a growing excitement. All this time since their first encounter he couldn't stop thinking, dreaming about this one being and he didn't understand why. At first he thought this was his subconscious second guessing his decision to push her off the bridge and had presumed her dead, but know he could see why he was so drawn towards her, so captivated by her all of a sudden. She - just like him - was not human. His subconscious must've picked up on her inhuman credibility without warning him and now he wanted nothing more but to kidnap her and take her to his hideaway to undergo high levels of examination and dissection before killing her off once and for all.

Separated from him by nothing but the night air and a thin pane of glass, the girl seemed to float above him as if she were a vision. In reality she was, if anything, exceptionally vital, so full of life, that he would not have been surprised if she could walk the night as confidently as he did, though for a reason different from his; she seemed to have within her all the light she needed to illuminate her path through any darkness. He drew back farther into the bush, convinced that she possessed the power to see him as clearly as he saw her.

She was like some princess locked in a tower, pining for a prince to climb up the vine and rescue her, The tower that served as her prison was life itself, and the prince for whom she waited was Death, and that from which she longed to be rescued was the curse of existence.

The words escaped his lips and he said softly, "I am here for you, princess," but he did not move from his hiding place, he was too absorbed with his past actions to do anything. Why did he say that?

Whatever the reasoning, he kept his gaze on her until after a few minutes she turned away from the window. Vanished. A void lay behind the glass where she had once stood.

He ached for her return, he didn't understand why, but he wanted one more brief look at her.

He waited five minutes, then another five. But she did not come to the window again.

At last, aware that dawn was closer than ever, he crept back to the window once more. Because he had already freed it, the window swung out silently this time. The opening was tight, but he eeled through with only the softest scraps of clothes against wood.

(( **HER** ))

Ollie exited the building through the back door to the third story and climbed down the fire escape as requested from her mother and father. They didn't want anyone to see her oddly colored skin and lips, but she didn't care what other people thought of her. She always knew she was different from other humans, but the catch was: she hasn't been human for ten years so how could she even compare her uniqueness to those beings?

Dismissing the thought she made it back to the Volvo station wagon only to figure out it was locked. She sighed and contemplated going back into the hotel to get the keys. Her mother and father surely won't be happy that she had interrupted them, but then again they had to have some sort of a heart if they were willing enough to let her sleep in the car and not in the bushes. Sighing she turned away from the car and headed back inside the building, not caring about the strange looks the clerks at the front desk gave her, then slipped inside the elevator before it could close.

As she rode the elevator to the top she started to think about what she was going to do after she got the keys to the car. She didn't know how to drive, and she wasn't going to go back to Rhode Island with her parents. Maybe she could nap in the car until dawn, leave the car with the keys still in her possession, then start her adventure to find Death again. It could be in California since she still had yet to check there along with Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas and many other southern states.

Once she got to the third and final floor she got off the elevator and started down the hallway, but she could sense something was wrong. Terribly wrong. A strong ominous feel was hanging in the whole hotel and she only realized it until now. Her grey eyes scanned each and every door she passed as she slowly walked along, not daring to make a single sound. The doors were the same color, the same wood, the same size as compared to where she walked passed them on her way up a few minutes ago, but now they seemed twisted, disfigured, and intimidating. It was probably just her imagination getting a hold of her, but she still couldn't shake the feeling the something gruesome lie behind each door she has already passed and still has yet to.

Stopping her movements as soon as she got to her parents' room, she tried the knob that was almost taller than her before leaning her ear against the chilled wood of the door. It was of course locked, but she didn't think of herself stupid for trying, instead she felt relieved that whatever what in that room was safely behind this locked door and out of her sights. But she quickly found it hard to suppress a smile that found its way onto her lips at the thought of Death Itself being beyond this one inch thick door. If it was Death that was causing all of this chaos, then she will meet Him gleefully with her arms extended and a warm smile on her chapped purple lips.

Knocking on the door with the same smile on the face she said, "Ma'am? Are you asleep yet?" She had to keep Death's presence on the down-low. If other occupants on this floor were to know Death was here there will surely be a panic, she had seen this type of thing happen before.

Knocking again, she was about to speak up again when the door was flung open, nearly smashing in her skull but missing by a few centimeters, and was harshly pulled into the room by the collar of her black dress. A loud scream could be heard behind her as the person thrusted Ollie towards a hooded man's blade.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't in slow motion like in the movies. He didn't have time to register who had caught the sharp end of his scalpel, he just knew someone knocked on the door, the woman lunged for it, and suddenly someone was impaled on the opposite end of his weapon. The only thing that seemed to register was that whoever was just stabbed wasn't the women. A sharp growl escaped through his throat as he kept his gaze on the woman, he took the blade out of the mystery body, then with a reach and flick of the wrist the women was down, choking on her slit throat.

He scanned the room once he regained his composure but when his gaze landed on a certain young girl he froze. He could smell her blood as it spewed out from her abdomen, a faint stuffiness of a hospital clinic on her skin, and the sweat in her dark brown hair. Captivated by such scents he couldn't help himself as he took a step towards the still girl, kneeled beside her before putting both his hands on either side of her face, and leaned in close. He could see small specks of blood mixing in with her freckles, the odd color her skin transformed into from her normal paleness he saw the first night they met. As he stared at her he couldn't help but wonder if he had killed her for a second time. Surely she hadn't survived the fall on the bridge but here she is, bleeding out right in front of him. It seems, he thought, that the princess had finally found her prince.

"I brought the extra pillows you requested-"

A voice at the door made his head whip around as soon as the first word was pushed out of her lips, but he quickly turned back around when the woman in the doorway screamed and then ran down the hall. Quickly picking up the girl, throwing her on his shoulder, he ran towards his small styrofoam cooler before picking it up and jumping out the sixth story window. He landed on his feet, knees bent, and quickly picked up his sunglasses that fell in the process, put it back on a started running down the vacant road. The girl on his left shoulder, cooler grasped firmly in his right hand and mask covering his face.

Before he could escape into a dark side street a sudden flash blurred his vision, he almost tripped at the unexpected white light but quickly regained his composure and darted through the alleyway. There he got into Mira Jane's silver Camaro and situated the girl in the passenger seat before driving off. Now in his car, he leaned over the console to adjust the unconscious girl in the passenger seat as if she were a mannequin. Her hands were in her lap, and she was held in place by the safety harness. After arranging her auburn hair to seem more casual he pushed her against the door so she slumped with her face turned away from the side window. People in passing cars would assume she was just sleeping.

Indeed she was still and pale, he suddenly wondered if she were dead. No point in taking her to his hideaway if she was already dead. Might as well open the door and push her out, dump the little girl right there. He put his hand against her cheek, smearing the blood. Her skin was wonderfully smooth but seemed cool. Pressing his fingertips to her throat, he detected her heartbeat in a carotid artery, thumping strongly, so strongly.

Mouth watering, he quickly pulled away from the girl and held both his hands firmly on the steering wheel, held his head stiffly to only look at the road. He couldn't eat her yet. He still has to asked her questions, maybe torture her a bit, and then kill her. He needed answers so that he could finally get her out of his head for good.

The drive was forty-five minutes long when they finally made it to Siuslaw National Forest in Oregon and the sun still had yet to come up. Ditching the car at the edge of the forest, he came around the passenger door and took off the safety harness before picking up the girl and putting her on the same shoulder. He took note that the bleeding had stopped which made him even more curious. He knew she wasn't human but her parents sure weren't immortal.

He walked until the sun started coming up. His eyes were too sensitive to light, if he were to be wandering in the forest when the sun made it over the horizon then he was doomed. He wouldn't be able to see even with his sunglasses and by the rate the girl was healing she could make a run for it while he was temporarily immobile. Coming to a clearing, his gaze landed on a wooden cabin. As he walked closer to it he could see moss growing on the outer walls along with spreading vines climbing the walls and bending around the house. The few window were either broken but covered with the vines or boarded up.

He smiled under the cover of his hood and stalked towards the door. Taking his hand off the girl's back, he reached for the doorknob and chuckled under his break when it swung open easily but with a loud and ominous _creak._ Entering the threshold, he stood there for a moment and observed his surroundings. To his left was a small kitchen, overgrown with plants coming in through the broken window. To his right was a small living space with an old, moldy couch the only thing occupying the space. In front of his was a short hallway with three doors. Two to the left and one to the right. Dropping the girl on the couch, certain she won't wake up while he was searching the place, he started walking down the hall, his blade ready for anything that may be on the other side of these doors.

Opening the first door to his left it made a loud _creak_ before returning to silence as he peered into the room. The walls were starting to strip its plaster, piling on the floor below, while vines invaded from the broken window. Backing out of the room he went to the only door to the right. It open with the same sounds but then he looked inside it wasn't like the other room. This space was much bigger with the only window boarded from the inside. He could see from the doorway another door in the room that was already open. Curious, he stepped inside the room slowly and made his way to the separate room linked to this one, but his cautiousness disintegrated when he saw a rusted bathtub and muddy toilet seat with a sink. There were broken glass fragments on the floor, probably from a mirror that was once hanging on the wall at one point.

Taking a step back from the room to turn his head to guide his body when he froze upon seeing the girl staring up at him. He had his back to her and he peered over his shoulder to stare back while she stood there, blank face, before smiling slightly.

"Hi," she smiled sweetly up at the man.

His instinct kicked in after the remark and he had her pinned to the floor with his blade to her throat in a matter of seconds. She didn't hold the smile any longer but then again it wasn't fear that was in her grey eyes. It was curiosity. He just started down at her, examining how she didn't try to fight back, or seemed to care about the blood that was still smeared on her face, or even that he kidnapped her.

"What," he growled, "is your name?"

"Ollie Minable," she replied without hesitation or fear in her small voice.

"Do you remember me, Ollie?" he growled again, seeing if her plunge into the frigid waters a few days ago chased away her memories of him.

"Yes. You were the one who pushed me off the bridge," she stated in a rather happy tone and a low growl escaped his chest. Why, he thought, why isn't she afraid of me even though I was the one who tried to kill her?

Pressing the blade her her neck he said, "Don't you fear me? I was the one who pushed you. Don't you hate me for ruining your fun? I took away your pleasure, what do you have to say to that?"

"Thank you," she smiled and he froze.

"What?"

"I said thank you. For pushing me, I thank you. It was an honor being killed by someone who understands the world like I do."

He peered into the girl's eyes, hearing nothing but honesty in her voice. She was genuinely thanking him for pushing her. This only made him second guess his opinion of the girl. He knew she wasn't human - that was obvious the second time he saw her - and he knew she wasn't anything monster-like or demonic. She was too fragile to be that, not scary at all. Then his thoughts traveled to angels. Could she be an angel? That would explain why she wanted to be dead so badly, to return to heaven. But even so, wouldn't angels fear him?

"What are you?" he asked, breaking the silence that once hung in the room.

"I'm a girl."

"No," he growled, frustrated, "Not what gender, what species?"

"I used to be human."

"'Used to be'?" he quoted, gaining interest.

"But then It gave me immortality."

"What's _It_?"

"Not what, who. Death gave me immortality for my seventh birthday," she stated and he could see the honesty in her eyes. She wasn't messing with him. She truly believed she was granted forever life for a birthday present.

"Were you kicked out of heaven, or something?" he asked, not buying her words and was going with his angel assumption.

"No, I'm trying to get into to heaven. I haven't been there."

"Why the interest?" he asked, starting to feel like he was repeating himself.

"Death said that if I were to die then we could play forever. We used to play when I was still human but then It went away after giving me my gift. I'm trying to find It."

"You say it like it's a person."

"It is! It's very real. It has short brown hair like yours that covers Its eyes, snow white skin, and shark teeth. Death is real," Ollie frowned, and didn't care that he had started to big his blade into her neck to get her to shut up. She had to be fibbing since she just described him, but her eyes were honest.

"Fine. I believe you," he stated and took the blade away, "But if you ever lie to me, I'll kill you without hesitation."

"It's life that I'm afraid of," she stated and he got off of her.

He loomed over her as she didn't bother to get up, "Then I'll make sure you live your immortal life to the fullest and heal you if you try to kill yourself."

She glared at him as she watched him walking towards the door to the room before asking, "What's your name?"

He froze, thought about it and figured it wouldn't hurt if she knew, "A long time ago, people used to call me Jack." Then he walked out. He didn't know why he didn't dissect her and rip out her heart right then. Surely that would've killed her, but he still had questions to ask the girl - Ollie. Besides, he liked her honesty. She was the first person in a long time to tell him the complete and honest truth instead of just telling him what he wanted to hear. Figured it was an immortal, seven year-old girl who wanted to die he had to be stuck with.


	6. Chapter 6

Just as the golden glow of the sun was slowly going down Jack was gathering his things for a short hunting spree. His food supply was gone from April just as he predicted in March and now it was time to compile enough food to last him for this month and enough human food for Ollie. It wasn't going to be that hard, he was just frustrated about how much he'll be carrying. He was fine with running with only a cooler in hand, but now he has to carry another bag of human food for the - sort of - human he's hosting.

Slipping on his sunglasses, he sighed as he grabbed a garbage bag and shoved it in his hoodie pocket for Ollie's food and then picked up the cooler for his. Walking out of his room on the right hand side of the hall he looked over towards Ollie's room across from his. Her door was closed and water was spilling out from under it. Jack sighed with a slight growl and walked towards her door.

I told her, he thought, not to bring drinks in her room, but here it is. Spilled just like I predicted.

Not bothering to knock, Jack swung open the door and wasn't surprised at the scene. There was a puddle of water in the threshold of her room, a chair on it's side and just above it was Ollie. Hanging. She had somehow been able to take the wires from the light console on the ceiling, make a noose and had hung herself by kicking the chair out from under her. The hyoid bone in the neck that's supposed to break when in this position wasn't broken yet. In fact Jack doubted it would ever break because the younger the person, the more flexible that bone is. Ollie wasn't going to heaven tonight. Just like all the other nights and mornings she's tried and failed.

"I'm going out," Jack stated, "Don't leave the cabin."

Ollie stared at Jack - still unable to see his face but still stared - for a moment as the whites of her eyes began to turn red and mustered up enough strength to give him a thumbs up and a small smile on her pale lips. Jack nodded once and left the room with the door open, leaving Ollie to stare after him. She knew he was a cannibal from looking in his room one time and she wondered why he hadn't tried to eat her yet. Was he saving her for something?

(( **THEM** ))

After slaying a sleeping couple in their isolated cabin in Siuslaw National Forest, Jack stole their organs and the keys to their faded red pick-up truck. He took a two hour dive towards Portland, making hunting stops only in isolated areas, when his final stop had him at a neo-punk nightclub named London Goth, in Portland, Oregon where he parked in the darkest part of the lot. He found a pouch of tools in the trunk and used a screwdriver and pliers to remove the plates, which he swapped with those on a battered grey Ford parked beside him. Then he drove to the other end of the lot and reparked.

Inside, the club was everything he hated. Loud, dirty, but it was also dark, which was good. Reeking of smoke, spilled liquor, and sweat. The band hit the chords harder than any musicians he'd ever heard, rammed pure rage into each tune, twisting the melody into a squealing mutant voice, banging the numbingly repetitious rhythms home with savage fury, playing each number so loud that - with the help of huge amplifiers - they rattled the filthy windows and almost made blood start leaking from his ears. He had put on his thick sunglasses to hide his empty eye sockets after he swapped out the plates..

The crowd was energetic, high on drugs of every variety, some of them drunk, many of them dangerous. In clothing, the preferred color was black, so Jack fit right in. And he was not the only one wearing sunglasses. Some of them, both men and women, were skinheads, and some wore their hair in short spikes, but none of them favored the frivolous flamboyancy of huge spikes and cock's combs and colorful dye jobs that had been a part of early punk. On the jammed dance floor, people seemed to be shoving each other and roughing each other up in some cases, but no one there had ever taken lessons at an Arthur Murray studio or watched "Soul Train."

At the scarred, stained, greasy bar, Jack pointed to the Corona, one of the six brands of beer lined up on a shelf. He paid and took the bottle from the bartender without the need to exchange a word. He stood there, not drinking but scanning the crowd.

Only a few of the customers at the bar and tables, or those standing along the walls, were taking to one another. Most were sullen and silent, not because the pounding music made conversation difficult but because they were the new wave of alienated youth, estranged not only from society but from one another. They were convinced that nothing mattered except self-gratification, that nothing was worth talking about, that they were the last generation on a world headed for destruction, with no future.

He knew of other neo-punk bars bars, but this was one of the only two in Oregon country that was the real thing. Many of the others catered to people who wanted to play at the lifestyle the same way some dentists and accountants liked to put on hand-tooled boots, faded jeans, checkered shirts, and ten-gallon hats to go to a country-and-western bar and pretend they were cowboys. At London Goth, there was no pretending in anyone's eyes, and everyone you encountered met you with a challenging stare, trying to decide whether they wanted sex or violence from you and whether you were likely to give them either. If it was an either-or situation, many would have chosen violence over sex.

A few were looking for something that transcended violence and sex, without a clear idea of what it might be. Jack could have shown them precisely that of which they were searching.

The problem was, he did not at first see anyone who appealed to him sufficiently to consider an addition to his meal. He was not a crew killer, piling up bodies of the sake of piling them up like someone he knows. Quantity had no appeal to him; he was more interested in quality. He was a connoisseur of a good tasting meal.

He made a previous acquisition at London Goth three months ago, a girl who insisted her name was Neon. In his car, when he tried to knock her unconscious, one blow didn't do the job, and she fought back with a ferocity that was exhilarating. Even later, in his old hideaway, when she regained consciousness, she resisted fiercely. though bound at the wrists and ankles. She squirmed and thrashed, biting him until he had cleaned her out.

Now, still holding his untouched beer, he saw another woman who reminded him of Neon. Physically they were far different but spiritually they were the same: hard cases, angry for no reason, worldly beyond their years, with all the potential violence of a tigress. Neon had been five-four, brunette, with a dusky complexion. This one was a blond in her early twenties, about five-seven. Lean and rangy. Riveting eyes the same shade of blue as his mask in the car. She was wearing a ragged black denim jacket over a tight black sweater, a short black shirt and boots.

In an age when attitude was admired more than intelligence, she knew how to carry herself for the maximum impact. She moved with her shoulders back and her head almost lifted haughtily. Her self-possession was as intimidating as spiked armor. Although every man in the room looked at her in a way that said he wanted her, none of them dared to come onto her, for she appeared to be able to emasculate with a singe word or look.

Her power of sexuality, however, was what made her of interest to Jack. Men would always be drawn to her - he noticed that those flanking him at the bar were watching her now - and some would not be intimidated. She possessed a savage vitality that made even Neon seem timid. When her defenses were penetrated, she would be lubricious and disgustingly fertile, soon fat with new life, a wild but fruitful broodmare.

He decided that she had two great weaknesses. The first was her clear conviction that she was superior to everyone she met and was, therefore, untouchable and safe, the same conviction that made it possible for royalty, in more innocent times, to walk among commoners in complete confidence that everyone they passed would back away respectfully or drop to one knee in awe. The second weakness was her extreme anger, which she stored in such quantity that Jack seemed to be able to see it cracking off her smooth pale skin, like an overcharge of electricity.

With that he had a couple of good ideas on how he would torture her.

She was with a group of about six men and four woman, though she did not seem to be interested in any of them. Jack was trying to come up with a plan on how to approach her when, not entirely to his surprise, _she_ approached _him._ He supposed their encounter was inevitable. They were, after all, the two more dangerous people at the club.

Just as the band took a break and the decibel level fell to a point at which the interior of the club would no longer have been lethal to cats, the blonde came to the bar. She pushed between Jack and another man, ordered and paid for a beer. She took the bottle from the bartender, turned sideways to face Jack, and looked at him across the top of the bottle, from which wisps of cold vapor rose like smoke.

She said, "You blind?"

"To somethings, Miss."

She raised an eyebrow. "Miss?"

He shrugged.

"Why the sunglasses?" she asked.

"I've been to Hell," he lied boldly and decided to build it up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hell is dark, cold."

"That so? I still don't get the sunglasses."

"Over there, you learn how to see in complete darkness."

"This is an interesting line of bullshit."

"So now I'm sensitive to light."

"A real _different_ line of bullshit."

He said nothing.

She drank some of her beer, but her eyes never left him. After a moment she said, "This is your usual line of crap, or do you make it up as you go?"

He shrugged again.

"You were watching me," she said.

"So?"

"You're right. Every asshole in here is watching me most of the time."

He was studying her intensely blue eyes. When he thought he might cut them out, then reinsert them backwards, so she was looking into her own skull. A comment on her self-absorption. He was brought out of of his thoughts when she started talking again.

"How about we get out of here."

He only smiled. Tonight's, meals are coming at me like moths coming towards a light, he thought.

(( **HIM** ))

Entering the cabin with the truck hidden in the trees behind the house, Jack was covered in blood and didn't doubt he was dripping the red ink everywhere he went in the small shelter. He lugged Ollie's garbage bag full of food into the somewhat clean kitchen along with his cooler and started putting things away in the broken pantries or on the counters so the little girl could have an easier reach, while he kept his food inside his room, out of sight from the girl.

Jack noted that she wasn't in the living room or in the kitchen and he sighed when he remembered she was hanging in her room the last time he saw her. He walked down the hall with his cooler and sunglasses on since he didn't want to scare Ollie with his eyes but decided that it was about time to let her see what the hood had covered before. Once he got to the still open and water drenched threshold he could see Ollie was still hanging there with her arms crossed over her chest as she seemed to glare at Jack in the doorway. A frown etched into her face as blood mixed in with her tears that were streaming down her face. There was no longer white in her eyes, just blood now and Jack could only guess some of the blood vessels in Ollie's eyes had popped from the pressure.

Jack put the cooler down and crossed his arms too before saying, "The bone didn't break, did it?"

She gave him a thumb down.

"Need help getting down?" he sighed, knowing the answer.

She put a thumbs up and held her even darker shade of bluish gray arms towards him. He stepped over the water puddle and grabbed Ollie from under her arms and lifted her up until she was able to get the noose off herself and took in a deep breath as she slumped on Jack's shoulder for support. Jack glanced at Ollie's neck to see deep, red, irritated lines going around her neck and little beads of blood from the wires that had cut her at one point.

He set her on the couch once he got into the living room and said, "Stay," before turning and walking to the spare bathroom that was the second door on the left hand wall. He came back with a tin First-Aid box and opened it on the cushion beside Ollie before pulling out cotton bandages and wrap as he kneeled in front of her. Jack cleaned the wound with a disinfectant before placing the cotton and then wrapping it to hold it together.

He sighed loudly as he patted the girl's knees. "Is this how it's going to be everytime I go out? You planning on killing yourself before I leave and then when I come home I find that the plan hasn't worked yet again and I have to clean up your wounds?"

Ollie sniffed as she looked down at Jack's hands while they were still on her knees, "No."

"Really? Because that's what it's been like ever since you got here."

Ollie kept her gaze on his hands.

"Fine,"Jack sighed, "Well, I got some more food for you when you get hungry." Jack stood, patted the girl's head and turned to leave when he heard the girl speak up.

"Why are you helping me? I didn't even know you until a few weeks ago."

Jack froze. Good question, he thought and turned around to face her, "I guess it's because you're just so small and defenseless I feel bad," Jack chuckled as he rubbed the top of Ollie's head, messing up her already tangled hair. She giggled and quickly saw through his lie right off the bat.

"No, you're just making sure I'll taste good when you eat me," she giggled and tried to push back Jack's hand.

His smile wavered, not really surprised that she knew he was a cannibal, but that she thought he was going to eat her later on. Ever since their first conversation in the cabin, Jack never even that about it. But for the sake of messing with her he chuckled and played along.

"Oh, no! You figured me out! Now I must eat you!" he chuckled and she screamed joyfully before jumping off the couch, darting down the hall and slamming the door to her room. Jack chuckled even more but then stopped.

What was the real reason why he was keeping her here?


	7. Chapter 7

On Thursday night, Ollie and Jack enjoyed the conveniences of a motel room.

Usually Jack - more than Ollie - used one of the fields behind the abandoned cabin as a toilet. They also washed each evening with bottled waters and liquid soap. Jack shaved with a straight razor, an aerosol can of lather, and a piece of broken mirror from his bathroom.

Once a week, sometimes twice, Jack rented a motel room for the both of them to use the shower and make a better job of grooming than they could in the primitive conditions of their hideaway. Though, not because hygiene was important to either one of them, Ollie's suicide attempts have gotten more and more messy by the week. Rolling on glass shards, slitting her wrists, even electrocuting herself. She would pass out from blood loss but when her body starts to heal itself she wakes up lying in her own blood. Ruining her only pair of clothes and making the stench of blood cling to her pale grey skin.

Jack always used the same motel, the Blue Skies, a seedy hole towards the southern end of Lincoln City, Oregon, where the unshaved desk clerk only accepts cash, asked for no identification, and never looked guests in the eyes as if afraid of what he might see in theirs or they in his. The area was swamped with drug dealers and streetwalkers. Jack was one of the few men who did not check in with a whore in tow, but instead held the hand of seven year-old Ollie, firmly. He made sure they only stayed an hour or two however, which was in keeping with the duration of the average customer's use of the accommodations, and he was allowed the same anonymity as those who grunted and moaned loudly with the headboard of their beds smacking against the walls conjoined to his.

He could not allow them to stay there full time because his awareness of the frenzied coupling of the sluts and their Johns filled him with anger, anxiety, and nausea at times, plus, this was no way to hide and protect a young girl who is curious and isn't afraid to ask about 'those strange noises. Jack's only reply to her question was: cover your ears. Besides that fact, even without Ollie, Jack could not stay there because the atmosphere made it difficult to think clearly and impossible to rest.

No other motel or boarding house would have been safe. They would've wanted identification. Besides, he could pass among the living as one of them only as long as their contact with him was casual and how long he could hold up the form. Any motel clerks or landlord who took deeper interest in his character and encountered him repeatedly would soon realize that he was different from them in some indefinable yet deeply disturbing way.

Anyway, to avoid drawing attention to himself and Ollie, he preferred abandoned cabins in the middle of a forest as primary headquarters. The authorities looking for him would be less likely to find him there than anywhere else. Most important, the cabins he resides in offers solitude, graveyard stillness, and regions of perfect darkness which he could escape during daylight hours when his sensitive eyes could not tolerate the insistent brightness of the sun.

Motels were only tolerable between dusk and dawn.

That usually windy but somehow warm Thursday night, when they came out of the Blue Skies Motel office with their room key, he noticed a familiar Pontiac parked in shadows at the back of the lot, beyond the until, not nose-in to the motel but facing the office. Jack tightened his hold on Ollie's hand, but she didn't think anything of it as she hummed alongside him when they started to walk. The car had been there on Sunday, the last time they came to the Blue Skies Motel. A man was slumped behind the wheel, as if sleeping or just passing time while he waited for someone to meet him. He had been there Sunday night, features veiled by the night and the haze of reflective light on his windshield.

Jack handed Ollie their clean clothes and the room key before picking her up and started speed walking to unit six, about in the middle of the long L-shaped structure, and let himself into the room. He closed the door before setting Ollie down and leaned against it.

Inside the room, he did not turn on the light. He never did, but he was sure Ollie didn't mind wandering with only a flashlight to guide her way.

For a while he stood with his back to the door, thinking about the Pontiac and the man behind the steering wheel. He might have just been a drug dealer working out of his car. The number of dealers crawling the neighborhood was even greater than a number of cockroaches swarming inside the walls of that decaying motel. But where were his customers with their quick nervous eyes and greasy wads of money? He could tell this man in the Pontiac was not what he seemed to be, Jack thought it over for a minute, it finally clicked, and then looked down at Ollie who was staring up at him as she pointed the flashlight at their feet.

"Something wrong, Jack?" she asked.

"We're being followed."

A look of confusion came across her face. "By who?"

"I don't know, but I remember seeing his car the night I came and got you at the hotel. He's either stalking me, investigating you, or both," he said as he stepped around Ollie, and went into the small bathroom. It smelled of hastily sloshed disinfectant that could not mask the melange of vile biological odors.

He put his sunglasses in his hoodie pocket and looked at a rectangle of pale light that marked a window above the back wall of the shower. Sliding open the glass door, which made a scraping noise as it moved along the corroded track, he stepped into the stall.

"What are you doing?" Ollie came around with the flashlight and pointed it at him before returning it to the floor.

"I'll be right back," he stated without turning to look at her as he search of something to grab onto.

"What? I wanna go, I don't like it here."

"I said I'll be back. You'll be fine as long as you don't turn on any of the lights or look out the windows. Just go sit on the bed and wait for me."

"But what if you don't come back-?"

"Ollie," he growed, making her jump, "Just go sit on the bed." She did as told immediately and Jack sighed before continuing on looking for a grip.

The window pane swung outward from the top on rusted hinges. He gripped the sill above his head, pulled himself through the window, and wriggled out into the service alley behind the motel. He paused to put on his sunglasses again.

He went right, all the way to the end of the block, turned right on the side street, then right again at the next corner, circling the motel. He slipped around the end of the short wing of the L-shaped building and moved along the covered walkway in front of the last units until he was behind the Pontiac.

At the moment that end of the motel was quiet. No one was coming or going from any of the rooms.

The man behind the wheel was sitting with one arm out the window. If he had glanced at the side mirror, he might have seen Jack coming up on him, but his attention was focused on room six in the other wing of the L.

Jack jerked open the door, and the guy actually started to fall out because he'd been leaning against it. Jack hit him hard in the face, using his elbow like a battering ram, which was better than his fists, except he didn't hit him squarely enough. The guy was rocked but trying to grapple with Jack. He was overweight and slow. A knee driven hard into his crotch slowed him down even more. The guy went into a prayer posture, gagging, and Jack stepped back far enough to kick him. The stranger fell over onto his side, so Jack kicked him again, in the head this time. The guy was out cold, as still as the pavement on which he was sprawled.

Hearing a startled intake of breath, Jack turned and saw a frizzy-haired blond hooker in a miniskirt and a middle aged man in a cheap suit and a bad toupee. They were coming out of the nearest room. They gaped at the man on the ground. At Jack. He stared back at them until they reentered their room and quietly pulled the door shut behind them.

The unconscious man was heavy, maybe two hundred pounds, but Jack was more than strong enough to lift him. He carried the guy around to the passenger side and loaded him into the other front seat. Then he got behind the wheel, started the Pontiac, and parked in front of room six's door. He honed his horn twice and waited a moment before he saw the drapes open, revealing Ollie's pale face that lit into a smile when she saw Jack in the car in front of her. He watched as Ollie backed away from the window and came running out the door as to not get snatched up by potential vultures in the area. Jack started to drive as soon as Ollie shut her door, not waiting for her to put on her seat belt. The couple from before could have called the cops already, or are watching him from their room.

"I thought I told you not to look out the windows," Jack said.

"Who else would flash their headlights in the window and honk their horn?" Ollie asked.

"Rapists."

"What's that?"

Jack just sighed and shook his head as his only answer.

(( **HIM** ))

Several blocks away, he turned onto a street of tract homes built thirty years ago and aging badly. Ancient Indian laurels and coral trees flanked the canted sidewalks and lent a note of grace despite the neighborhood's decline. He pulled the Pontiac to the curd. He switched off the engine and the lights, then started to search the unconscious man. He found a loaded revolver in a shoulder holster under the guy's jacket. He took it for himself.

The stranger was carrying a flip phone and two wallets. The first, and thicker, contained three hundred dollars in cash, which Jack confiscated. It also held credit card, photo cleaner, a buy-one-get-one-free punch card from a frozen-yogurt shop, a driver's license, and insignificant odds and ends.

"Who is he?" Ollie asked as she leaned on the console from the back seat and squinted in the darkness to look at the guys licens.

"Morton Dezeac from Anaheim, California."

"California? But, I thought we were in Oregon."

"We are…"

Jack moved on to the second wallet that was quite thin, and it proved to be not a real wallet at all but a leather ID holder. In it were Dezeac's license to operate as a private investigator and another license to carry a concealed weapon.

In the glove department, Jack found only candy bars and a paperback detective novel. He gave Ollie one of the smaller chocolate bars. In the console between seats, he found chewing gum, breath mints, another candy bar, and a bent Thomas Brothers map book of Oregon County.

Jack opened the flip phone and went through Dezeac's contacts. He found one that was under Home Phone and looked at the information given under that name. There was the number, the number's name, and then the address. Jack took out the map book and studied it for a while, then started the car and pulled away from the curb. He headed for highway 101 and the dress on Dezeac's phone.

When they were more than halfway there, Dezeac started to groan and twitch, as if he might come to his senses. Driving with one hand, Jack picked up the revolver he had taken off the man and clubbed him alongside the head with it. Dezeac was quiet again.

"Where are we going?" Ollie asked after she was done with her candy bar.

"Dezeac's place."

"California?"

"No. He seems to be renting a house here in Oregon. We're just going to ask him a few questions is all," Jack said as he focused on driving.

"Okay," Ollie smiled and looked out the her window.

(( **THEM** ))

When Dezeac regained consciousness, his assorted pains were so bad, they took one hundred percent of his attention. He had a violent headache to which he could have testified with such feeling in a television commercial that they would have been forced to open new aspirin factories to meet the consumer response. One eye was puffed and half shut. His lips were split and swollen; they were numb and felt huge. His neck hurt, and his stomach was sore, and his testicles throbbed so fiercely from the knee he had taken in the crotch that the idea of getting up and walking sent a paroxysm of nausea through him.

Gradually remembering what had happened to him, that the bastard had taken him by surprise. Then he realized he was not lying on the motel parking lot but sitting in a chair, and for the first time he was afraid.

He was not merely sitting in a chair. He was tied in it. Ropes bound him at chest and waist, and more ropes wound across his thighs, securing him to the seat. His arms were fixed to the arms of the chair just below his elbows and his wrists.

Pain had muddied his thought processes. Now fear had clarified them.

Simultaneously squinting his good eye and trying to widen his left swollen eye, he studied the darkness. For a moment he assumed he was in a room at Blue Skies Motel, outside of which he had been running a surveillance in hope of spotting the kids. Then he recognized his own living room. He couldn't see much. No lights were on. But having lived in that house for a few years,he could identify the patterns of ambient night-glow at the windows, the dim shapes of the furniture, shadows among shadows of different intensity, and the subtle but singular smell of home, which was as special and instantly identifiable to him as the odor of any particular lair to any particular wolf in the wild.

He did not feel much like a wolf tonight. He felt like a rabbit, shivering in recognition of its status as pry.

For a few seconds he thought he was alone, and he began to strain against the ropes. Then a shadow a rose from other shadows and approached him.

He could see nothing more of his adversary than a silhouette. Even that seemed to melt into the silhouettes of inanimate objects, or to change as if the kids were a polymorphous creature that could assumes variety of forms. But he knew it was the oldest kid because he sensed that difference, that _alienness_ he had perceived that first time he had laid eyes on the bastard awhile back when he was only pursuing the girl.

"Comfortable, Mr. Dezeac?"

Over the past couple of weeks as he searched for the creep and the girl, Dezeac had developed a deep curiosity about them, but mostly the boy. Trying to puzzle out what he wanted, what he needed, what he thought. After showing countless people the various photographs of the kids, and after spending more than a little of his own time in contemplation of them, he had been especially curious about what the voice would be like that went with that remarkably handsome yet forbidding face. It sounded nothing like he had imagined it would be, either cold or steely like the voice of a machine designed to pass for human nor the guttural and savage snarling of a beast. Rather it was soothing, honey-tones, with an appealing reverberant timbre.

"Mr. Dezeac, sir, can you hear me?"

More than anything else, the kid's politeness and the natural formality of his speech disconcerted Dezeac.

"I apologize for having to be so rough with you, sir, but you really didn't give me much of a choice.

Nothing in the voice indicated the kid was being snide or moking. He was just a boy who had been raised to address his elders with consideration and respect, a habit he could not cast off even under circumstances like this. The detective was gripped by a primitive, superstitious feeling that he was in the presence of an entity that could imitate humanity but had nothing in common whatsoever with the human species.

Speaking through split lips, his world somewhat slurred, Morton Dezeac said, "Who are you, what the hell do you want?"

"You've seen me. You know who she is."

"I haven't a fucking clue. You blindsided me. I haven't seen your face. What - are you a bat or something? Why don't you turn on a light? And who is _she_?"

Still only a black form, the kid moved closer, to within a few feet of the chair. "You were hired to find us."

"I was hired to run a surveillance on a guy named Kirkaby. Leonard Kirkaby. Wife thinks he's cheating on her. And he is. Brings his secretary to the Blue Skies every Thursday for some in-and-out."

"Well, sir, that's a little hard for me to believe, you know? The Blue Skies is for low-life guys and cheap whores, not business executives and their secretaries."

"Maybe he gets off on the sleaziness of it, treading the girl like a whore. Who the hell knows, huh? Anyway, you sure aren't Kirkaby. I know his voice. He doesn't sound anything like you. Not as young as you either. Besides, he's a piece of puff pastry. He couldn't have handled me the way you did."

The kid was quiet for a while. Just staring down at Dezeac. Then he began to pace. In the dark. Unhesitating, never bumping into furniture. Like a restless cat, except his eyes didn't glow.

Finally he said, "So what are you saying, sir? That this is just a big mistake?"

Dezeac knew the only way out of this alive was to convince the kid of the lie - that a guy named Kirkaby had a letch for his secretary, and a bitter wife seeking evidence for a divorce. He just didn't know what tone to take to sell the story. With most people, Dezeac had an unerring sense of which approach would beguile them and make them accept even the widest proposition as the truth. But the kid was different; he didn't think or react this ordinary people.

Dezeac decided to play it tough. "Listen, asshole, I wish I did know who you are and what you look like because once this is finished, I'd come over there and bash your fuckin' head in."

The kid was silent for a while, mulling it over. Then he said, "All right. I believe you. But could you tone down on the cursing? We have a young audience member after all."

Before Dezeac could ask there was a small - _click_ \- and a bright white light shined on his sofa. He had to squint at the light but then the stiffened when he saw a young girl, younger than ten, sleeping as she cuddled with a blanket. He instantly recognized her long dark brown hair, pale grey skin, and freckled cheeks. He's been trying to find her for over three months when he finally spotted her being hauled away by the kid in front of him now a few weeks back.

"A girl? Why would you bring her into something like this?" Dezeac asked as he tried to look at the kid's face, but could only see his black jeans and black hiking boots.

"She doesn't have anywhere else to go, and she's great company. So full of life…" The kid rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek, and Dezeac wanted to punch the bastard for even touching her.

"What did you do to her?" Dezeac spat and with another - _click_ \- of the flashlight everything went back to darkness.

The kid gripped Dezeac's face and held both his nose and his mouth so he couldn't breath. "Don't be sick minded, sir. I would never touch anyone in such a foul way," he seemed to growl, no longer possessing the honey-toned, and soothing voice.

Dezeac gasped when he let go of him. He caught his breath before saying, "Then what the hell do you want, damnit?"

"The truth," he replied and Dezeac couldn't hold back a scream when something sharp impaled his thigh making warm blood gush out of the wound.

Ollie never woke up during the violent interrogation Jack was putting Dezeac through. She was too concerned with her dream.

In her dream, Ollie was on the Newport bridge watching the sunset as she stood on the cement wall's edge. When she looked down there was nothing but blackness, but she knew that the frigid bay waters of the Oregon coast would catch her and ensure her safety. When she looked up she was the sky had just started turning from purple to a dark blue, but then even she could see no stars. Not even the moon was out like it was in real life. Went the sun goes down there will be nothing to guide her way anywhere. She would have to blindly jump or blindly walk back home, but that second one was not an option. Death was waiting for her return.

She smiled at the last of the sunset and held her arms in front of her as if she was reaching for the last bits of the sun's golden glow. She giggled as she decided to recite the words that changed her life for the better, wondering if the hooded man would come again.

"Goodbye, humanity. Have a nice night."

"I see you want to play another round of Gravity, Oliver."

Her eyes instantly popped open as her eyebrows frowned. That wasn't what he had said before, she thought. She slowly looked over her shoulder to see familiar snow white skin, chocolate brown hair, and that threatening smile she's been longing to see standing on the edge beside her.

"Death!" she gasped and hugged the creature.

It's smile grew wider as It was finally able to hold the small girl in Its arms again. "I missed you so much, Ollie," It's raspy voice stated at It hugged the girl closer to Its body.

"I missed you too. I'm so happy you're here!" Ollie cheered and looked up at Death without letting go of Its waist.

"I know. I was there to see every one of your attempts. I'm so proud of how creative you've been. I thought surely rolling around in glass would've done it."

"Me too. I was so upset when it didn't. I spent the rest of the night crying, but now everything's gonna be just fine since you're here now!" Ollie cheered and squeezed Death tighter.

Death sighed and frowned. "About that. Listen closely Ollie I have something very important to share with you," Death stated and gently pushed the girl off of it and kneeled before her, hands on her shoulders. "This is only a dream, and I think this is the only time I will be able to appear."

"What? But I want you to-"

"I know, I know. But listen here, there is a way you can come to heaven with me and all that is required is an assistant."

(( **HIM** ))

Once Dezeac died from blood loss, Jack sighed. He had gotten some answers, but he didn't like them one bit. Apparently, private detectives are trying to find Ollie all over the country and they even have reword money hanging over her head for whoever can bring her in first. Twenty thousand to be exact.

Looking over at Ollie's sleeping form, Jack smiled and picked up the girl along with the blanket and put her in the passenger seat of Dezeac's car before getting the man himself and shoving him in the back. He drove back to the Blue Skies Motel, parked the car in the exact same spot, got Ollie and walked towards their room.

Once he stepped inside the threshold and shut the door behind him, Ollie started to wake up.

"Death?" she whispered up to Jack and he just chuckled.

"Close. We're more like distant cousins."

"Oh. Jack," she looked around for a moment but shouldn't see anything in the darkness, "Where are we now?"

"Back at the motel."

"And what about Mr. Dezeac?"

"Don't worry about him. Just go get in the shower," he said as he set her down and she didn't say anything else as she ventured across the room and turned on the bathroom light before stepping in.


	8. END

_He was wandering._

 _Wandering with no specific goal to reach any destination._

 _He didn't feel the need to kill and feed nor did he feel the need to be cautious as he wandered. The forest gave him a sense of false security. The tall pine trees sheltered him from light that the moon shed and left him in complete darkness. Just how he liked it._

 _It was like he was a fearsome predator on the prowl. He wasn't stalking, no, more like protecting. Protecting his territory by doing routine checks, but what was he protecting and what from?_

SNAP!

 _He spun around, whipping out his blade, and faced the intruder, but no one was there. He searched for a moment, the hairs on his neck standing on end had him slow, cautious with every step towards the noise. Seeing nothing around him, he held his nose high. Cool, light, fresh air hit his lung instantly as he sniffed. His eyes closed, nose twitching as his head guided his nose in any direction he had yet to check. He smelt nothing. Lowering his head, he opened his sunglasses covered eyes only to see a great horned owl perched on a tree branch a few feet in front of him. He didn't smell the owl because he wasn't searching for it. Nothing in the air would ever harm him. It's what's on the ground, bears its teeth and growls at him that is the enemy._

 _He stared up at the owl, not quick to move, not bearing his teeth, just staring._

" _You better keep the wolf back from the door. He wonders ever closer every night. And how he waits, begging for blood." The owl's mouth did not move as it stared back, but the voice was like a whispered echo in the trees surrounding him. He was not threatened by the statement, but something made a low growl escape his chest. A wolf was stalking his territory, hunting the unknown object he was trying to protect, no doubt._

 _He tensed his legs in a full sprint towards his den, his hideaway. He could hear the owl's wings flap elegantly to his right. He didn't bother to look as it raced with him. "Do not be fooled predator, the wolf is nothing more than a lonely soul in a corpse's body. It has taken many forms to trick you." No more words were exchanged when the owl decreased its speed and quickly fell behind as he ran to his hideaway._

 _When he reached his cabin he found muddy paw prints leading through the front door, only going doing the hall and ending in the first door to the left. An animalistic, deep, threatening growl burst through his chest and bared teeth when his gaze landed on a single wolf - muzzle red with blood - and a small being - skin punctured and mangled - laying on the floor. He circled the wolf still growling and baring his teeth as it mirrored his actions. When he was crouching over the being, ready to attack if the wolf made a move towards him, that's when the wolf took its leave. Jogging out of the den as to suggest the predator couldn't hurt him. Once it was gone and he could no longer smell its matted fur, he looked down at the being as he kneeled beside her. He slowly turned the being on its back, blood now on his hands and hoodie sleeves but he didn't care when he saw the being's face._

 _Words subconsciously slipped from his mouth, "Princess Ollie?"_

(( **HER** ))

Ollie was sleeping on her makeshift bed with the moldy couch cushions when she was awoken by slight growls and whimpering cries on the other side of her door. She laid there, waiting for the noise to pass but it didn't and after a few minutes her name was thrown into the silent cries. She recognized the voice to be Jack's but the tone of voice he was using did not sound like him. It was not in his nature to pathetically whimper out her name in any situation. It sounded like Jack, but was it actually him?

Getting up, she slowly made her way towards her door and pushed it open. It swung slowly with a low - _creak_ \- before stopping its motion and noise only halfway. Ollie stepped through the cracked door and stopped in the hall when the slight whimpering of her name and the low growls got louder. She looked towards the kitchen and living room area but the noise was only coming from the door in front of her. Jack's room.

She wondered if Jack would be mad at her for going into his room. She'd done it before, but without his knowledge while he was out.

Clenching her fists in the loose sleeves of Jack's hoodie, she slowly set one foot in front of the other and reached her hand towards the doorknob. She didn't roll up her sleeves as she retched, there was no time. She had to see if Jack was alright.

As soon as the door was open the musky scent of rotten meat hung in the air. It stung her eyes, the foul scent was so thick she had to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve covered hand. She looked through her watery eyes to see bags holding various things on the floor. Small piles were made to sort out Jack's food supply. Paper torn from the walls labeled each pile with blood for ink.

Ollie stepped into the room, careful not to step on a pile labeled 'Liver' that was closest to her. As she looked around she could hear Jack's cries while he faced away from her. His knees brought into his chest and arms clutched to his hoodie. She wondered if he was hurt, crying out for her help, but when she called to him there was no visible response. She walked around him, keeping her distance and stopped in front of him. She could finally see what he looked like without his sunglasses on his face. His skin was a white color, hair a chocolate brown. She stared at him it awe. He looked like Death, but Jack never tried to hurt her aside from their first encounter. Death had killed her many times, cured her with the pain of life while Jack helped her see that life was not all that bad. Jack may look like Death, but Jack was not Death itself.

She stared down at Jack for a moment with only the light from the moon to guide her eyes. Seeing he was not hurt, but having a bad dream from the clear liquid that she guessed were his tears and the way he continued to call out to her even though she was right there. Right in front of him.

Ollie kneeled before him and stretched out a cautious hand to wake him. When her hand had made contact with his shoulder she thought his eyes would snap open in that instant but she was proven wrong when he continued his whimpering.

She rubbed him. "Jack."

Nothing.

She rubbed his shoulder harder. "Jack, wake up."

He whimpered out her name and tensed his muscles as he started to awaken.

"Wake up. Came on Jack," she said, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him lightly.

"Ollie… Ollie…" He mumbled. His eyebrows frowned as he seemed to calm down.

"I'm here, Jack. Wake up, please-" she nearly screamed when his eyelids snapped open to reveal nothing but black sockets as he seemed to look at her and then quickly brought her into a tight embrace, all in a manner of seconds. He had no eyes.

"Ollie," he sighed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he held her to his chest. He ran his hand through her hair, took in her scent, and relished in her warmth. "I thought I'd lost you," he breathed.

Ollie blinked in surprise at not only his actions but his words as well. No one has said or done anything like he had just now in a long time. She relaxed her tense muscles. "It was just a nightmare. I used to get them all the time," she stated and let Jack hold her for a little while longer. Even though he was hugging her out of his own comfort it still felt nice to feel wanted by someone, even if that someone is a monster in most eyes. Eventually, though, Ollie ended up falling asleep in Jack's arms and he didn't care. He just held her as she slept, not bothering to go back to sleep in fear he would have another nightmare.

He watched as Ollie slept. Watched how her face seemed to twitched as her body ticked from her dreams. He played with her hair every once in awhile, moved it out of her face whenever it swept across her freckled nose and cheeks. He was correct in assuming she was a princess, her high tower was life, and her prince was Death but he forgot to include himself. Before, he thought he was the prince who would kill her but now he viciously changed his mind. Her spot for the prince was already filled, so he took the role as the fire breathing dragon. Protecting her from Prince Death. That was his role in this story. He was her protector. She was the unknown object he was bound to guard.

A shiver ran down his spine when he thought of his dream, how he couldn't protect his precious princess, but then he shook his head. No, he thought, nothing like that is going to happen. I won't let it. Never.

(( **HIM** ))

He was reluctant to go out but he had to. Ollie couldn't wear just his hoodies and that torn up dress he found her in. Not with winter on their heels. He had to go out and get something warm for Ollie before it gets too cold for her. It shouldn't take him too long. A quick kill and steal, maybe a warm meal also.

He wasn't in much of a hurry but he still walked fast through the dark forest. With his dream still haunting him he didn't want to be apart from Ollie longer than he had to but he didn't want to seem like he was back in a hurry because of her. He had to keep his head and wordlessly convince her everything was fine. Which everything was. He was just being paranoid.

Hearing a - _snap_ \- behind him, he quickly spun around, wiped out his blade, and turned to see nothing but a white rabbit a few feet in front of him. His heart was racing in his chest, breath locked in his lungs and he sighed at himself from being momentarily afraid of such a small creature that doesn't even eat meat. He bare his teeth and growled at the white rabbit. It immediately cut left to get away from the threat when it was suddenly impaled by sharp talons and lifted off the dirt ground. Jack watched as an owl flew to the nearest tree and started to pick apart the once white rabbit with its talons and beak.

Jack watched in awe at the sight. He always found nature to work in mysterious ways but this he understood. A predator hunting his prey then devouring it without mercy. He watched until there was nothing left of the rabbit and was on his way again when he could suddenly hear the elegant - _whoosh_ \- as the owl from before flew passed him and landed on a tree branch a few feet in front of him, making him stop. Jack's heart started to speed up when his mind made the connection that this owl was a great horned owl, just like the one in his dream.

Jack took a step back as the owl just stared at him. He half expected it to start talking and half expected he had finally gone crazy after all this time. Jack's skin crawled when it suddenly _hoot_ ed at him but he jumped when there was a loud howl behind him. In the direction his hideaway was. He froze upon hearing it. Instantly registering it as a wolf's cry as it howled at the moon or the fact that he found his prey and he was taunting Jack.

With his back turned to it, the owl leaped off its perch, grabbed at Jack's hoodie and started flying into the distance without him. Signalling him to follow.

"No," Jack breathed before running in a sprint towards his hideaway, towards his cabin, towards his princess. "NO!"

Jack quickly caught up to the owl before it hooted again and started to fall back, egging him to go on without its help. Jack didn't bother looking back either as only one thing was on his mind: Why her?

He could see the muddy cracks of the animal, smell it as he ran into the cabin and wanted to kill it even if it hadn't touched Ollie, but he froze in place as soon as he was in the threshold of Ollie's room. The first thing he saw wasn't Ollie, but the wolf who was standing in between them. It panted, wagging its tail as if it had done nothing wrong. But then Jack's eyes landed on a small figure lying on the floor in a pool of its own blood. He could faintly smell Ollie in the room over all of the blood and his breath locked in his lungs again when realization struck him like lightning.

"No! Get away from her!" Jack yelled, swiping his blade at the wolf but it backed away quickly and bit Ollie's shoulder before lifting her lifeless form in his mouth.

"She's mine! Let go!" Jack growled and the wolf just stared at him as it wagged its tail. Taunting him. Telling him to come and take her from him. But before he could do anything, it started… laughing. A low husky voice behind it.

" _Do not be fooled predator, the wolf is nothing more than a lonely soul in a corpse's body. It has taken many forms to trick you."_

No, it wasn't the wolf itself. He was wrong. It was what was wearing its corpse.

"Come out of there. Show yourself," Jack ordered and on command the wolf's body started to twitch. He could hear the snapping of it's bones, some of it's flesh tearing as he kept a strong hold on Ollie's shoulder. The wolf's eyes hollowed out and it's back split down the middle like someone was unzipping a horse costume for Halloween. Jack didn't react as a man started to emerge from the wolf and only when the man took Ollie into his arms did the wolf's lifeless body fall limp at the man's feet.

It was like looking into a mirror for Jack. The man before him had his skin, hair, height, even teeth but his eyes were bright high beams shooing away the darkness. Jack could not look him in the eye as pain spiked in his dark sockets whenever he did. This man was Death.

"She's yours is she? How interesting. I didn't realize this was a dibs war." Death started, his voice rough despite his joking tone.

"She's mine. You stay away from her. It's not her time," Jack growled through clenched teeth.

"Is that what you think Jack-a-boy? Well, I think she was overdue a long time ago."

Jack growled at the name but continued, "She doesn't deserve this. She's would be seventeen now if you hadn't been so selfish!"

"I'm being selfish? No, you're wrong. Oliver wanted to die when she was at the age of five-"

"Then why didn't you let her?! You revived her so you could watch her cry out in pain!"

"That is a false statement! I merely wanted to play a little while longer!"

"You could've done that while she was dead! All this time she's been going on and on about if she killed herself then she would be able to play with you again!"

"Well, now she can play with me forever," Death stated coldly as he narrowed his beaming eyes at Jack.

"You don't deserve her," Jack stated, glaring at Death's nose instead of his eyes.

"It doesn't matter if I deserve her or not. It's too late for that," Death stated and let go of Ollie's legs so they dangled below her as he held on the her wrists. "She's dead now. No point it trying to save her." Death shifted her mangled body in various ways to prove his point.

Then started to chuckle, "But you can have her body once I've claimed her soul. Eat her if you want."

"Never!" Jack yelled.

"Then what do you want from her? Her heart? Is that is? Have you fallen in love, Jack-a-boy?"

"No! I just want her back! She deserves more in life then all of this pain and suffering you put her through!"

"And how are you going to do that? She's dead remember?"

"A deal."

Death's eyes widened before he smiled, flashing his sharp teeth. "A deal? With Death? What could you possibly have that I might want?"

"My humanity. Take my ability to look human in trade for Ollie to live," Jack stated, looking into Deaths bright lights for eyes. Not caring about the uncomfortable pains.

Death smiled wider and circled Jack, "Ah, your humanity, hm? That would make hunting for food significantly harder for you. You'll never be able to stalk during the day. You sure about this?"

"Positive, now make the deal," Jack growled and stretched out his hand.

"Hold on. Let's make a few rules, hm? Let's see, if she were to die, then you become the way you were again. But if she continues to be stuck in time to you will stay like that forever. Got it?"

"Fine. Whatever it takes to get her back."

Death smiled at his outstretched hand for a moment before dropping Ollie's body to the floor and quickly taking Jack's hand firmly in his.

"Deal."

There was a sudden flash of bright light when Death took his hand and Jack couldn't help but cry out in pain from the light that stung him to his core. When the light faded, Jack found himself closer to the floor but he didn't care. He rushed to Ollie, something in his step was weird but all of that left his mind when he stood over Ollie's body, trying to see any movement in her still body. He could see the wounds on her face starting to heal quickly and after a moment of nothing more Ollie's body jerked into a sitting position as she gasped for air.

Jack's immediate instinct was to hug her. Capture her in his arms and never let go, but when he tried to wrap his arms around her he found he was not his normal self. He did not mean to push her down and pin her below him and immediately he got off when she started screaming.

"Jack! Jack! Help me!" she screamed and Jack instantly step towards her, to see what was wrong when she screamed again and started to crawl away.

"JACK!" She was now sobbing, fear evident in her eyes as if he were a beast. As if he were the wolf who had killed her. As if he was Death and she no longer welcomed it.

 _Ollie, I'm right here! Don't scream I'm right here! You're looking right at me! Please Ollie, I'm right in front of you!_

"JACK! HELP, PLEASE!" she screamed again.

 _I'm right here! Ollie, please! Stop pretending you don't see me!_

Jack had meant to say something, anything to calm down the weeping girl in front of him but all that came out were high pitched whimpers.

"G-Good doggie. Good doggie. Don't hurt me, please," she said as she winced when he stepped towards her. Ollie didn't know what was going on. One minute Jack was leaving for warm clothing then she was being attacked by a vicious wolf. It had sent her to Death and she was overjoyed that they got to dance and play again, but then her happiness was instantly fading when she came back to life and was being attacked again. But this time it was by a dog. A German Shepherd. It had brown and grey fur with blacked out eyes. No traces of white or light coming out of them. Jack was nowhere to be found.

Jack froze, contemplating what she had just called him. _Doggie._ Jack looked down at himself to find he was a good two feet above the floor even though he was standing and his breath caught when instead of feet or hands he saw a pair of dark grey paws but black overgrown nails. No, he thought, no, no, no! Death not only took away my ability to act human but my ability to _look_ human! That bastard!

A low growl escaped his chest as he bared his teeth, but he immediately stopped when he heard Ollie's slight cry in fear. She was afraid of him. Of her protector. If only she knew who she was and what he did for her, then she wouldn't be crying, scared out of her wits, and yelling out for the only person who could protect her from the threat. It pained him knowing that she would never be able to figure out what Jack had to go through just to get her back.

Jack heard himself whine as he stepped closer to Ollie and laid down beside her. He rested his head on her lap as she watched him cautiously. Jack kept whining, begging for her to trust him. To know that he what never going to hurt her. Jack closed his eyes but continued his wordless plea. She had to trust him.

After a moment of stiffness, Ollie's tense muscles relaxed but she was still hesitant as she placed her hand on the dog's head. It's fur soft against her skin and he didn't dare move incase he might scare her. She started petting him. Smoothing out his fur.

"You're… not so scary," she breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

Jack glanced up at her, not moving in his position as he watched her smile slightly. _I won't hurt you. Not ever._

"I think I'll name you… Eyeless because your eyes seem so empty. Lifeless" she giggled and Jack nuzzled his face into her waist. Yearning for her to continue. To call him Jack instead.

"I have a friend named Jack. I think he would love you just as much as I do," Ollie smiled and continued to pet Jack's fur.

Jack whined. _I love you too Ollie. So much. If only I could tell you._

"He said he would be back soon, so we should wait for him," she said and Jack looked up, his eyes couldn't show the sadness he obviously felt.

 _I'm right here Ollie, right here. But the Jack you want is never coming back. I'm sorry._

Ollie patted Jack's head when he whimpered, "It's alright Eyeless. He'll be back soon."

Jack laid his head back on her lap and wined again, _I did it for you, Ollie. Everything was for you._

(( **THEM** ))

It has been three days since the Jack Ollie knew had left for clothes. She never moved in her position to eat, go to the bathroom, or rest her head on her makeshift bed. She wouldn't miss his return for the world.

Eyeless didn't dare leave her side, though, he would whine whenever her stomach demanded food, but she simply ignored it, gave him a smile before petting his head, and stared at the front door. Waiting for it to open and reveal her protector.

On the fourth day, Ollie finally came to the decision that something was terribly wrong. Claiming that the Jack she knew wouldn't leave her, he must he hurt or lost in the forest. Little did she know that he had been with her all this time. He guessed being her guard dog was just as great as being her dragon.

"Come on Eyeless. Let's go," Ollie said as she lugged a small backpack she found in Jack's room that held human food, All of Jack's sweatshirts and any money or first aid supplies she could find. While Eyeless was carrying a small styrofoam cooler in his mouth holding his own food of organs. Ollie didn't mind Eyeless taking some of Jack's food since she knew he craved human flesh from watching him break down Jack's door and tore through the pile labeled 'Kidneys'. Plus, she didn't this Jack would mind if he was missing a few items in his pantry. Not like she planned on returning to the cabin after her heart was set on finding him.

Jack responded by walking out the door first and stopped before looking over his shoulder to make sure Ollie was fallowing.

They walked side by side as the long journey to find Ollie's Jack commenced.

 _THE END_


End file.
